


A Crooked New Dawn

by Metal_fist_of_Hydra



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Disabled Brock Rumlow, Domestic Brock Rumlow, Domestic Jack Rollins, HYDRA Husbands, Hurt Brock Rumlow, Hurt/Comfort, Hydra (Marvel), M/M, Multi, Redeemable Brock Rumlow, Redeemable Jack Rollins
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-02-17 02:37:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13067358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Metal_fist_of_Hydra/pseuds/Metal_fist_of_Hydra
Summary: After the fall of the Triskelion, Jack hides with his husband at a Hydra safehouse. They are found by Steve, Captain America and taken into custody.Although they were not present at the Triskelion, being tortured and locked up by HYDRA, they still have done enough bad deed to be sure about that their future holds a nice prison cell at the RAFT or at some other similar place and they can consider themselves lucky if their cells are gonna be at the same level.However, Jack has a few cards down his sleeve, and for the sake of his disabled husband and himself, he's going to play them on Captain America.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I never wrote Hydra Husbands before. It has lots of potential and I have a kink for a broken Brock in need of comforting.
> 
> Comments are very welcome.

Jack's quite contented with the unfolding of events. Sure thing, they're prisoners, they sport shock collars, and are under heavy surveillance, but they're  _safe._ He gets fed decent meals 3 times a day and his husband is getting proper medical attention, lying in a clean and comfortable bed.

Jack grits his teeth and his face darkens.  _Safe._

He reaches out and gently takes hold of Brock's hand. His husband is deep asleep - whatever meds the doctors give to him, make him sleepy almost all the time. 

They get to spend daytime together. By night, guards escort the heavily cuffed Jack into his cell. Brock was crying the first time - at least, that's what Jack deduced from the contorted face, the muffled whining and the begging eyes. He turned, took his mate's face between his cuffed hands and put their brows together. 

"Babe. Don't make this hard for me."

Brock stopped crying immediately. His eyes though, they never left Jack's face. Big, begging, tearful eyes.

They haunted Jack the whole night.

 

Sometimes he thinks he could have spared the pain for both of them, if only he took the right preventie measures. But then again, he knows that's not true. They both have done what they could. And nobody could foresee the future.

He gently kisses the knuckles on Brock’s hand. And the golden wedding band.

It seemed so stupid, so hopelessly and  _disgustingly_ romantic, yet so right. 

Connor and Warden had been the best men, the ceremony was short and all the while they all were fighting with the laughter which was ready to crack up. But at the end, when they've put on the golden rings, signed their names - their  _real_ names -, and kissed each other - suddenly it was not hilarious anymore. It became somber, dark, and the room was filled of forebodings. As if a dark cloud shaded the sun, turning the laughing, warm day into a chilly cold one.

But, they're spouses, they're married to each other and that ensures them some rights. Thanks to this, he can spend the day at Brock's bed, taking care of his _husband_ , cleaning him, spoon-feeding him, massaging him, talking to him, kissing him. He doesn't care about the armed guards behind the safety glass, doesn't care about the cameras and microphones. Doesn't care about the whole world as long as he's with Brock.

He's pretty sure that wedding vows and golden rings wouldn’t do a thing in their cases if not for Rogers. The man seems to sympathize with them and that's why his rights are acknowledged. That's why he is allowed to escort his husband to the various medical examinations and that's why he gets fully informed about Brock’s state.

And what he learns, leaves his heart heavy, but doesn't leave him hopeless.

 

He doesn't tell to the doctors what has happened to Brock, what made him disabled to the point that he barely can move himself and is unable to talk. He was there, he has seen it all, and it was a sight which made his blood curdle, and made him scream to the point that the veins on his neck almost exploded. Not to avail. He wasn't able to save Brock from the torture, and himself from the heavy beating which cost him the sight of his left eye.

After HYDRA fell, there was no-one to come for them. They were not killed only because Pierce didn't want to waste time on them. They were thrown in a - not too well guarded -, cell, more dead than alive. Hours later, it was the Soldier who broke them free. God only knows what was going on in his scrambled mind - and it remains a mystery why he was dripping wet -, but he freed them from their cell, broke open some of the safes, collecting gold and money - lots of it, before hoisting up Brock, and ordering Jack into a car's backseat, driving them to one of HYDRA's safehouses, leaving them there with a good amount of cash and vanishing into thin air, not even saying them goodbye.

Thanks God for that. 

Jack remembers limping his way through the safehouse, looking for MRE-s, medical kit, weapons. Remembers of hauling Brock into the shower, remembers falling asleep on a bed, both of them naked and exhausted, not having the strength anymore to put on clothes, freezing even under three layers of blankets.

The next few days were foggy, both of them running fever, Brock unable to keep any food down, throwing up, soiling himself, glancing up apologizingly with his big, teary-wet eyes at his husband. Jack inserted a cannulla in his vein, to give him IV against dehydration - they were no strangers to basic medical knowledge, had to patch up themselves and each other after missions more than once -, but he himself was weakening, and taking care of both of them became more and more difficult. He strapped adult diapers on Brock and climbed in bed with him, both of them shaking with fever, but still not delusional enough  _not_ to hear the intruder and knowing the end has come.

Jack sat up in bed, pulled Brock’s head in his lap and pointed his gun against his husband's temple. He wouldn’t have let HYDRA get their hands on Brock again. He'd kill Brock first and then, with some luck, himself. And when the intruder entered their room, Jack could have sobbed from relief because it's not like they were big friends with Steve Rogers, but his presence meant fair treatment and safety. Even if he arrived with that winged freak and the Widow, and a whole SWAT team. But it meant hope for them. It meant survival.

He didn’t put up resistance when they were roughly pulled from the bed, and no-one was laughing at Brock's nappies. They were searched, cuffed (Brock was strapped on a cot before covered with a blanket) and taken into hospital. Different rooms, heavily guarded, but Brock  _finally_ got  _proper_ medical attention and nothing else mattered.

 

Rogers visited him soon after, and this was when Jack told him about them being married. Since then, he gets to spend the days with his husband. Brock was deteriorating badly, and it's only thanks to Jack's presence that he has gotten better, doctors say. 

Jack has no illusions, however. Once they get healed (which in Brock’s case most probably means  _stabilized,_ because who's gonna spend time and energy on a HYDRA agent to make him wholesome and 100% again), they're gonna find themselves in some super-guarded secret prison facility and no-one will give a shit whether they're married or not. Widowed, if anything, in no time.

And that's why he isn't hesitating to ask for Rogers, to get a private hearing with him. Offering him valuable informations.

 

Rogers enters the room and stays in the door. Jack is sitting on the chair, a desk between them. They’re on their own, but Jack is no rookie. Every corner, every single piece of furniture in this room is on him; cameras, mics everywhere, even if he can't make them out in the dim lighting. Whatever. The more SHIELD knows, the more chances he has. And what he has to offer, is so valuable to Rogers that the good Captain no doubt will go against Fury if the latter won't agree with him. 

Rogers sits opposite of him. His marble face is unreadable and hard as a mask. He folds his arms infront of himself and stretches his legs under the desk, keeping himself closed from anything a HYDRA agent may offer to him.

Oh, this is soon gonna change.

It was always Brock who loved to play games. Jack is not a patient type and he bets Rogers isn't in gaming mood either, so he cuts it short;

"I want a plea deal. For my husband and me." He emphasizes the word 'husband' and it doesn't leave without trace; Rogers' face softens a bit. Barely visible but it is there.

"What exactly do you want?"

"I want us to be safe and to be together. Not rotting away in some fucking government prison or SHIELD facility. I want a safe harbour; a place where we can live in peace and I can take care of Brock. With regular medical appointments. Rehabilitation."

"You're asking for a lot."

"I have a lot to offer."

They face each other, marble and granite faces and the silence stretches. 

"What do you have to offer?", Rogers finally asks.

 _This is it._ The big moment.

"Informations about the current whereabouts of the Winter Soldier. Of Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. Your mate.", Jack finishes softly because halfway in the mid-sentence Rogers gasps for air and looks as if someone slapped him with a fish.

_Right in the feels, Cap._

Rogers seem to be proceeding what he just heard. After a while, he stands up.

"I am going to talk about your plea deal with my superiors."

And with that, he leaves.

That's not much, but Jack  _knows._ He knows he has won. Rogers' gonna give them what he asked for - they'll probably remain under the custody of SHIELD for a lifetime, but who cares. As long as they are going to be safe from HYDRA, as long as he gets to stay with Brock and gets medical care for him -, he won't care.

 


	2. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve goes after Bucky, trying to find him based on the information he gets from Rollins. He's prepared to meet the Soldier and his heart breaks upon what he finds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bombing in Vienna never happened, so it’s not the whole world after the Winter Soldier, "only " the remnants of HYDRA and a few SHIELD agents and Cap.
> 
> Comment please ;) and tell me what you want to read.

_This is the apartment he lives in._ Steve's heart wrenches into a painful, tiny knot while observing the place. An old mattress with a sleeping bag on it; a shelf built of wooden boards and cement blocks; a small kitchen with a few, but clean, dishes, chocolate bars on the top of the fridge - and the windows plastered with newspaper to block sight. 

This is where his Bucky lives?

It's clear to see how it is a desperate attempt to lead a normal life while staying low.  

_Alone._

Steve sortof hoped he would find Bucky at home. Finding this little apartment wasn't difficult, not with the coordinates given from Rollins. He doesn't know where Bucky might be or if it is _Bucky_ who he's gonna face. He closes his eyes for a moment and desperately hopes he won't need to call Rollins for that single piece of information which would shut down the Soldier...

 

Brock is half-asleep when they come for them. Upon feeling being lifted out of bed, he opens his mouth in a scream but no sound comes out. In a haze, he sees SWAT team members around them and he desperately tries to reach out to Jack, somehow...

"Babe, it's ok. Calm down."

He doesn't see his husband, but to hear his voice, steady and strong, is enough to calm him for a moment. He feels being lifted, strapped on a cot, and panic flares in him. He whimpers, flailing weakly with his arms.

"Hey. I told you it's ok."

Jack's next to him, his husband's face upon his and Brock is instantly calmed down. He doesn't know what's going on, but he trusts Jack. 

The next thing he's aware of, is Cap's voice. Rogers is talking to... Jack, it seems? He blindly reaches around, touches soft surface and he feels very comfortable, on something soft and velvety. A strong hand caresses his face. He feels a wedding band on the hand and he smiles a bit, and is deep asleep in the next moment.

Jack studies the face of his sleeping husband, then turns to Rogers.

"Thank you."

Rogers nods courteously. His arms are folded infront of his chest. He doesn't seem to be in the mood for politeness or gratitude. He's in his civvies, ready to go; all he needs is information and then he would be gone. So, Jack gives it to him.

"One more thing, Cap", he says, right when Rogers turns on his heels and is about to leave. "You can't know who you're gonna face. If it comes to the worse, there is an easy, non-lethal method with which you can stop the Soldier."

Rogers perks up.

"What is it?"

"Not gonna give it you yet. Not, until I am assured about that the deal holds. Go, Cap. Find him. And you better secure the way to reach out to me when necessary. "

And with that, Jack's not willing to say more. He sits on the couch, next to Brock and studies the sleeping face which contorts as if tormented by nightmares.

Rogers leaves, strong steps echoing, and if he's to be judged by his stiff back, his mood is not that of overwhelming happiness.

 

 Now there he is. 

Nothing better to do, he checks the apartment through. Bucky’s gonna return here, he's sure about it - all the signs point at this. Maybe he's gone for a walk.

The little notebook has its pages marked by colourful sticky notes. He scrolls through the pages absentmindedly. How did Bucky react when coming across this new, modern world? How did his constantly electrocuted brain react to the changes of the past 70 years? How lost is he, facing the traffic, the neon signs, the loud cars, the music in the giant shops, all the informations this whole new world dumpes on him 24/7?

Maybe that's why the windows are covered with newspapers.

He feels something in the notebook as he keeps scrolling. There is a photo among the pages, and upon closer inspection, he comes face to face with his own photo. It's a modern shot, cut from a magazine probably. Above the photo it is written "Steve" And a tiny, barely noticeable little heart.

If he had to analyze what he feels, he'd be lost hopelessly. It's a strange mix of happiness, relief, immense sadness and hope. He breathes deeply, leans against the fridge, and a sob breaks out of him.

 

When Brock comes to himself, it is quite difficult to open his eyes because of all the light and at first he thinks he's on a surgery table. His body stiffens as panic scourges through him, but he gets a grip on himself and with a few blinks, he manages to clear his sight. 

What he sees, leaves him breathless.

He's in some big bed, propped up with fluffy pillows and covered with expensive blanket. Next to the bed there is a small bedside table, with  _flowers_ in a vase. There are _bed-curtains_ pulled to the side and the blazing light comes through giant windows which offer sight to the city and far out, to the sea.

What the fuck.

_And where is Jack?_

He tries to move, desperately, but his muscles don't comply. He swallows dry. Ok, no panic. Jack told him it's ok and it's not like SHIELD would place him on a luxurious death row. He only has to wait.

He hears footsteps and doesn't even need to turn his head to know it's Jack. His husband leans above him and smiles.

"Hey, babe. JARVIS told me you were awake."

 _Who?_ Brock raises his eyebrows, both of them. It's only a week gone since Rogers found them in the safehouse but during the hospital stay they 've worked out a special sign system with Jack. Both eyebrows raised; question.

"Stark's A.I.", explains Jack and reaches underneath Brock, to lift him a bit and make him more comfortable. "I've made a deal with Rogers. We get to spend our life under the custody of SHIELD, but moderately free, in this apartment, with everything what we would need - food, TV, books, comfort - and regular medical appointments for you."

Brock’s face stays motionless and has his eyes pointed at Jack's face. This means "carry on" So Jack continues. 

"I have been to a few interviews. I have given up intel,  _lots of,_ in order to ensure our safety. And I told to Rogers about the Soldier."

The eyebrows raise again.

"Told him his whereabouts."

Brock widens his eyes and Jack knows what his mate means. He gently caresses one - way too thin - hand. He shakes his head.

"Babe, I don't think Barnes is still the Soldier. You remember when he freed us, how he was dripping wet?..." There is hesitation in his voice. Brock was barely alive when the Soldier found them. He was hoisted up on a muscular, strong,  _wet_ shoulder, then laid very gently to the passenger's seat and was more out of it the whole time than awake.

Brock emphatisingly closes both eyes for a second.  _Yes._

"Seemingly he saved Rogers from the Potomac. Cap fell in, the Soldier jumped after him. And pulled him to the dry. Rogers thought at first that he was delirating but when I told him that upon freeding us, his mate was wet like a waterfall, the picture got together."

_Carry on._

"Not much left to say." Jack stays silent for a second, rubs his chin. "You know, babe... we talked about how they should be together again, like we are..." He stops, and doesn't say more. Yes, they talked about the Soldier and Rogers and what came after is what landed them in that dirty cell, one of them having the crap beaten out of him, the other one left for dead, body still twitching from the aftermath of god-only-knows how many volts frying his brain...

Brock turns his head to one side. 

_Enough._

 

He feels sooner than he sees it. Warm, wooly fragrance, sweat, dirt, oil... it's all of this, and it's so strong and it's so  _his_ that when the smell hits his nostrils, he has to close his eyes and he groans. 

Strong hands take hold of his shoulders, turn him, and for a second he looks into blue eyes, then warm, eager lips claim his mouth, he's being hugged with full force and he's kissed with such vehemence that his legs go weak and if not for the fridge supporting him from behind, he'd collapse. His throbbing erection is painful and he blindly gropes his mate, rubbing his cock against Bucky’s crotch.

Deep growl is the answer. The mouth leaves his, and he's being dragged through the apartment, thrown on the mattress. His clothes are ripped off of his body and he doesn’t mind. Bearded face rubs against his chest, giving him burns on his pecs, then that beautiful red mouth sucks with cruel force on his nipples and a big hand takes hold of his hard, leaking penis.

He cries out, but Bucky gently shushes him, climbs above him, kisses him again, and Steve grabs onto him desperately. They’re re moving against each other, Bucky still fully clothed but the bump in his trousers leaving no doubts about his intentions. Steve takes hold of the hem of his sweater... this is uncomfortable, his skin gets burns from all the rough clothing, and Bucky gets the clue, straightens up, strips himself. There is a second of hesitation, a glimpse of shame as his metallic arm comes to daylight and he looks at Steve shyly for a moment, but Steve reaches up to him, caresses him, and then Bucky covers Steve's body with his own and the desperate kissing and rubbing continues.

Steve feels his cock leaking, but before he can say anything, Bucky's up again, and spits in his hand several times, then slicks up his cock. He takes hold of Steve's legs, bends them at the knee, then spits on Steve's hole, and works a finger in him.

Steve feels like he's on fire. He moves against Bucky’s finger and his lover soon adds a second one, scissoring him, opening him up. Steve whines, whips his head around, sweet drops from his forehead. He  _needs_ Bucky and if he doesn't get what he needs, he's gonna go crazy. 

Bucky slicks himself up with spit for one last time, then enters Steve and they both groan and cry from the extasy.  

Now it is not the time for lovemaking. This is  _fucking,_ animalistic and primordial, dirty and loud, sweaty and rough. Steve is crying, sobbing, there are tears in his eyes as his heart is trying to burst out of his chest. Bucky sucks at his nipples, grabs Steve's cocks and begins to jack him off like there's no tomorrow, his big balls slapping against Steve's ass and his thick cock works Steve's prostate.

It cannot last long and it doesn't. With a cry, Steve orgasms in thick, white globs, some of his seed covering Bucky's hand. Bucky lifts his hand, licks off Steve's come, and the taste sets him off; with a grunt and one last push, he fills up Steve, and after riding out his orgasm, he stays in the velvet heat, with his head on Steve’s chest.

 


	3. Getting Used To

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bit of Hydra Husband domestic fluff. There is a bit of angst, but everything will turn out alright.
> 
> Brock is crippled and incontinent, Jack is dealing with all the nasty bits. If changing diapers on an adult bothers you, you should skip. Nothing explicit, but be warned.

It's been a week since Cap was gone.

The kitchen is something really big. Jack stands in the middle of it, pondering. It is so easy to feel at home that sometimes it just slips his mind that they're prisoners. And that's a mistake. They’re on enemy ground, they have to put up their defenses. He mustn't give away too many at once. SHIELD would use them, they'd be squeezed like lemons and then their empty shells thrown aside.

He opens up the cupboards, looking for food to prepare. Cooking always has been one of his hobbies. Brock can't cook for the sake of his own life and Jack finds that endearing. Brock always claimed that cooking was a stress for him. For Jack, cooking is like meditating. Chop-chop-chop, mix, sizzle... everything has its time and place when one cooks and the result is delicious, especially if he cooks for someone else. 

He decides on something easy and light. Rice with vegetables, chicken. He finds everything in the fridge and cupboards what he needs. He puts everything on the kitchen counter then goes to look after Brock.

Brock is not awake yet. Jack gently shakes him awake, giving him his pills and water, then lifts his husband out of the bed, placing him in the special wheelchair which was administered by the Stark Companies (Jack bets this was Cap's doing again). Time for the morning wash.

There is a - there is no better word for it, a changing desk in their bathroom. It's necessary because while Brock isn't total incontinent, there are accidents. His pills make him sleepy and given the fact the cannot move much on his own or speak, he has to wear diapers and needs to be changed occassionally.

Jack doesn't mind. Now that he's doing well, he's more than capable to take care of his husband. 

He lifts Brock from the chair, places him on the changing desk, removes his nappies, then places him on the toilet. Brock is red from shame while urinating and moving his bowels, keeping his head low and not looking Jack into the face. But Jack can't be bothered. The first day he tried to leave Brock alone in order to give him some privacy, only to return to find his husband on the floor. Turns out, Brock tried to take care of matters himself, lost balance and fell. Since then he's sporting a big bruise on his right cheek and Jack won't let that happen again. So he stays.

When Brock is finished, Jack gently cleans him off, then lifts him to put him in the special bathtub which allows him to have access to every part of Brock's body, thus letting Jack clean his mate thoroughly. Doctors told him that the loss of Brock's motoric skills might be only temporary, so he should let him do as many things on his own as possible. That's why he doesn't simply wash Brock, but rather pushes the washing cloth in his hands and helps him to wash himself, while gently speaking to him. It’s important that Brock doesn't feel objectified. He should feel the care and love all the time. So Jack does his best, kissing Brock, speaking to him, caressing him, telling him how much he loves him and how proud he is of him whenever Brock manages to do such simple tasks like cleaning his own private parts with clumsy movements. 

After it, Jack dries Brock off with a big, fluffy towel, places him on the changing desk, and puts him in fresh diapers, then dresses him in comfortable sweats. Again, he is trying to leave as much to Brock as possible. 

The whole ordeal takes good half an hour, but every minute is worth of it. At least, this is what Jack feels. Taking care of the man he loves, spending time together. Nappies and changing desk however, are far from their imagined ideal common future, but Jack Rollins is a man of positivity and he tries to see the good side of things all the time. They are alive, they are together, they have everything what they need and they are safe. Nothing else matters.

The thing is, that's  _his_ way of thinking. Brock is the negative one. That's what made him a perfect Commander of the team, he never was satisfied with 99,99%, he always was thriving for 100%. Never contented with "possible ", satisfied only with "sure". Brock never bent himself, he always bent the world around him and now he can't do that and this is breaking him.

Things would be easier if he'd been the one being pushed in the Chair for punishment, thinks Jack. If he was the incontinent cripple now, Brock would do all these things to him, would help him eat, bathe, get dressed, he'd overwork himself to ensure the safety and wellbeing of his husband. Brock used to be the type who broke down from flu, but on battlefield he would bring back a dying man by patching him up, swearing at him, slapping him and basically nagging him until the poor bloke would give up the thought of dying and would rather come back among the living just in order to be finally fucking left alone and at peace. 

 

They’re sitting in the kitchen, having breakfast. Brock is finally able to eat something else than baby-food and though he's not allowed to have coffee, he gets to drink children's coffee. It's a milky beverage and they both like the smell of it because it reminds them of their childhood. They eat comfortably - Brock has both his arms on the table and he leans down to shakingly place pieces of bread in his mouth and Jack doesn't help him one single bit, not anymore. They have all the time in the world, and if breakfast lasts hours long, then it will last hours long. They eat, the radio gives some nice background music to go with it. Jack chats, tells his husband about his plans for lunch and Brock smiles, he loves chicken. Jack is an awesome cook and spoils him rotten with all the goodies he prepares.

Brock leans down to sip his coffee and Jack gently scolds him for that. Brock looks up, then tries to place his hands around the mug. They shake. His fingers dance and it takes a lot to finally fold them around the warm mug. With great effort, he tries to tilt the mug towards himself and this is when he feels - the tip of his penis is soaked in piss. Obviously, while concentrating on his drink, his bladder let it go and he pissed himself. From the shock he lets go of the mug which falls over - the coffee splatters on the desk, on his chest, seeping into his clothes.

This proves to be too much. In dark desperation, Brock sweeps off the mug of the table with one clumsy, desperate move of his arm. It clatters on the floor, breaks into pieces and Brock falls with his head on the desk, crying.

Jack jumps up. He doesn't know what happened, he sees only the disaster, but as he kneels next to Brock, he feels the pungent smell of fresh urine (meds tend to mess up the smell of one's body fluids) and he places together the pieces of what happened.

"Babe, don't cry."

It's easier said than done. Brock is hysterically crying, his whole body shaking. Jack stands up, he tries to lift Brock out of the chair, but Brock wouldn’t let it, he makes himself into a cramped, hunched ball of shame and cries bitter tears.

Jack has enough. Using his greater strength, he reaches under his stubborn husband, tears him out of the chair and sits with him on the couch. For a while, he just holds Brock’s head close to his chest, gently rocking the crying man, kissing his hair and giving time for the tears to dry up.

It takes good quarter of an hour, but Brock's bawling finally ceases. Jack gently turns the beloved face towards himself. Brock is a mess. His eyes are red-rimmed, his skin is red and dry from the tears. He's shaking, he's cold, his fingers are icicles. Jack takes a plaid from the couch and wraps him up. 

"Babe, we should change your diapers", he says, and the reaction is exactly what he expected, Brock begins to whimper again, but Jack won't let him get to it. Not again.

"Listen to me", he says sternly, and grabs Brock’s face. "I know this is difficult for you. I know you hate this; that you can't walk, that you can't talk. I know you hate that you can't wipe your own ass and that you're ashamed to have to rely on me. Not only because of your stubborn pride, but because you hate to be a burden to me. You think I don't deserve this; you think it is shameful for me to change you, bathe you, feed you. I know you, babe, as well as the back of my hand, so I don't even have to ask if I am right. I damn well know I am!"

He has to stop because his voice begins rising and the last thing he wants now, is to scare Brock. 

"I didn't marry you because you had the best body on the team. I didn't marry you for your walking or talking abilities. I married you because I love you - and babe, when we spoke our vows, when I spoke those words, when I promised to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health.... babe, I meant it. I meant every single word of it. I don't care if you're on diapers - I'll change you. I don't care if you can't walk - I'll carry you. I don't care if you can't talk - I will look into your eyes and I'll know what you think, because I know you, I  _love you._ I love you, Brock Rumlow. I will love and honor you all the days of my life. I am here for you and I am ready to face whatever difficulties we might have. If you are ashamed when I change you or wipe your ass, be ashamed, but afterwards, _let it go."_

He gently kisses Brock.

"Take in consideration that we were not meant to live. We were doomed, beaten up, tortured. We had big luck to survive, once when the Soldier came to our help, and the second time when Cap has found us. Now here we are, again with luck, prisoners but safe, and we have everything and you get proper medical help. And we have each other..."

He kisses Brock again.

"Babe, I love you so much."

Brock leans into his husband's embrace and seems to be a whole lot calmer. His eyes are not leaving Jack's face, and there is apologizing in them. Jack sees it. He kisses the tip of Brock's nose. 

"Let's get those nappies changed."

 

Preparing lunch never was such a peaceful event before.

 


	4. Limit Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve tries to convince Bucky and Brock gets a therapy partner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Teddy Bear Therapy is a real thing, read it here: https://prosperityplace.com/teddy-bear-therapy/ Later though, it will turn out how things are not what they seem to be, with this bear...
> 
> Please comment if you like my story! Thank you.

They're sitting on the bed, next to each other, facing opposite directions, Bucky's dick in Steve's hold, Bucky's hand on Steve's knee. Heavy breathing fills the small apartment and the smell of sex and tears.

Steve would like to say so many things, but he's tired.

Bucky fucked him three times so far. Supersoldier stamina and seventy years without each other flared their desire and they've spent the last hour with exploring each other, kissing, fucking, touching, crying, cuddling, swearing, laughing then crying again.

Now they're sitting up, Steve's hole is angry red and semen is flowing out of him. His face and chest are glowing with aftersex-blush. He's not exactly sitting, he's more like leaning against Bucky's crossed legs. Bucky glows too, and Steve's come glistens in his stubble and on his stomach. He didn’t even care to wipe it away.

_Wipe._

Never ever will be any moment in Steve’s life again when he will not have to throw up from hearing this word. What he has learned from Rollins, made him sick to the core and when Romanoff gave him the Winter Soldier files, he had to stop several times while reading it, had to cool himself. The wiping procedure's detailed description made his blood boiling and he gladly would have gutted Pierce if by some miracle he ever met him again.

Bucky must feel something, probably because Steve’s grasp around his cock becomes involuntarily stronger. He gently takes hold of Steve's wrist.

"Doll..."

That's the first word they speak to each other after seventy years. 

Steve takes a deep breath. There are so many things they have to talk about, but fucking HYDRA won't be the first thing. It'll come up sooner or later. 

"I've missed you", he says and doesn't ask "how did you survive and what happened after?"

He knows, after all. 

Bucky's face darkens a bit.

"I've missed you too... ", he says hesitantly. "Whenever I remembered you."

Deep silence.

Steve knows that Bucky’s memory is far from intact. Rollins told him all. He told him that once, when the Soldier tried to remember, Pierce slapped him. And, as the Soldier kept asking, he was wiped. That specially designed chair which practically electrocuted several areas of his brain, destroying his memories, his free will, his personality. It's a designer's miracle and enhanced medical knowledge, a monstrous wonder that it didn't turn Bucky into a slobbering, incontinent, crippled idiot...

Wait a minute here.

What the fuck has happened to Rumlow? Steve kept asking Rollins, but the man plain has turned deaf and mute whenever Steve or the doctors tried to speak to him about that. Steve knows only what the doctors told to Fury - and not even Fury was entitled to know it, patient's rights and so on. Rumlow's brain -  a few areas -, has suffered serious damage. Similar to those who'd been in accidents where high voltage electricity was involved.

Bucky leans over to him and gives him a kiss.

"Why did you come after me, Stevie?", he asks and his voice is full of sadness. 

"I love you", says Steve simply. 

"You shouldn't..."

And his posture is so uncertain, the way he's sitting there, so hunched, so  _broken...._

"What do I have to give to you? Look at what I've become. I have murdered.  _So many people._ This world is new for me. I got ripped out of my time, kept alive, turned into a human machine.  _All against my will."_

"Bucky. It was not your choice to kill."

"I know. Still did it."

"There is...", Steve starts and stops again. He wants to take Bucky home, to give him a safe place, a home, a chance. He's willing to fight for him. But they have to get there, and right now Bucky doesn't seem to be in the mood to be willing to pick up the threads and to go on.

 He licks his lips nervously. There must be a way to convince Bucky.

"How did you find me?", his love asks curiously. Seems they get to HYDRA at any rate. Tread carefully, Stevie. You don’t wanna offset the Winter Soldier.

"I got your coordinates from Agent Rollins", he says hesitantly. 

Bucky's face remains blank.

"He was HYDRA", says Steve. "He's our captive now, along with Agent Rumlow, who happens to be his husband.

"I hope you didn't hurt them?"

There is so much worry in Bucky’s voice that it takes Steve by total surprise, but not that much that he wouldn’t hear what lies underneath: threat.

Bucky just threatened him.

He's quick to assure him. "No. I didn't. No harm has happened to them. They’re in custody and they're safe."

"Good", Bucky nods, then frees his cock of Steve’s hold and begins to dress, not even bothering to remove the drying semen from his face and stomach. Steve looks on, stunned.

When Bucky is done, he turns to Steve and hands him his clothes.

"The shower is behind that door", he says and points the direction with his head. "Thank you... thank you for dropping by, Stevie."

"Bucky,  I am not leaving without you."

"Yes... you will."

Fuck the shower. Steve stands up and dresses. He steps closer to Bucky and takes hold of his face.

"Buck. I've let you go seventy years ago. Now here I am and I don't want to let you go, ever. If you wanna stay, fine by me, but I'm gonna stay with you."

"That's selfish."

"What?", Steve doesn't understand at first, but then he does. "I don't wanna be with you so that I'd feel better. I want you because I love you."

"I told you, you shouldn't." Bucky looks up at him, and his face, his eyes are so ashamed, so uncertain that it breaks Steve’s heart. "I have killed many people, following HYDRA's orders. They are hunting me and so do a few other secret organizations. I am a wanted man, Stevie, and they will come for me. You have to go. Leave."

This is like a nightmare. Here they are, finally together, Bucky's semen still flowing out of him, drenching his underwear and although there is barely any distance between them, in the last seventy years they were never so far away from each other as right now.

 

  _A fucking teddybear._

Brock really hoped it was a joke, then he realized it wasn't and he got afraid and scared. Did Jack hit his head or did SHIELD fuck with his mind? His husbands never was an affectionate guy . Never got him gifts, never even invited him for a coffee, less alone bought him flowers or sweets or whatnot and now he just gave him a teddybear.

He is so scared that the smell of it literally oozes from his pores and Jack, thank fuck, feels it. He leans down and kisses him.

"Nothing wrong, babe. Your doctors told to me it would be a nice idea to get you a teddy. Something you can hold on. It has proven to be therapeutic. It reduces anxiety."

Brock stares at him. Jack knows his stubborn mule husband, so he gives him another kiss. "No babe, I am  _not_ sticking the bear up to my ass, or to the doctors' asses. Hold him close to you. Holding the bear shall stimulate a memory center in your brain from the time when stuffed animals and dolls were your friends. Helps you to touch emotions that are stored deep inside of you — emotions that need to be released in order for you to heal. Use him. Give him a name."

The look on Brock’s face is that of pure horror. Jack gives him one last kiss, then straightens up. 

"Have to go now, another interview. You should be fine - I shall be back in less than an hour and you have everything. If any accident happens, we're gonna deal with it when I'm back. Love you, babe. Bond with the bear.

And he's gone.

The bear lands on the floor, not far from the couch. Brock can't throw him far away. 

_Fuck._

He's wearing diapers. He just changed from baby-food to solid food. He can't wipe his own ass, and tells with groans and whimpers what he wants. He's already like an overgrown baby, so he gets a teddy. What's next, a pacifier? 

Unreleasing emotions, huh? Might be working already because he feels anger, bitterness, desperation and self-pity. If this is what Jack meant with therapy, then it has begun already. 

Brock looks over at the bear. It is a white one, with red paws, red ears, and wears a red fly, for fuck's sake as if invited to a tea party. Cute black nose, eyes almost hidden in the deep fur, and a smile, sewn with black yarn. Cute thing, actually.

  _For a child._

Does this mean Jack looks at him as if he was his child?

If only he could speak, he would ask the A.I. about the therapy what Jack mentioned.

Ok, so what if it's real? Jack isn't the type who'd come up with stories and this teddytherapy is definitely not something he would make up. 

At any rate, the bear is a gift from his Jack, and that's a first. This warms Brock’s heart, but only for a moment. Damn, he has thrown the thing away.

And he won't be able to convince Jack it was an accident. He might battle his lashes all the way he wants, it's not like Jack won't be able to see that the bear didn't simply fall off the couch, it was  _thrown._

He has to get it back.

_Fuck my life._

Standing up, walking to it, picking it up - totally out of question. He's not able to do the algorythm of that - not too complicated -, task. 

He doesn't even think through what he's doing, he rolls over and lets himself drop on the floor. The couch's not too high, and there is soft carpet on the floor, but the impact is still a small shock, so for a moment he stays, closes his eyes and breathes in deep.

Now just to get to the bear, before the A.I. alerts his husband.

He can't continue rolling, it would take too much energy, so with great effort he pulls his arms underneath himself, and begins to crawl with the help of his lower arms. He vehemently tries to get his feet involved, but all he gets is the twitching of his toes - he's constantly barefoot, in order not to restrict the small muscles of his feet in any way -, but even this proves helpful as he's crawling on the carpet like some giant worm.

Sometimes his brain just freezes and he can't execute the movement he wants, it's like getting caught up in a nightmare, the sticky one when you want to run but your feet are caught and you can't run. The feeling is so intense that his heart begins to beat faster and he has to force himself to calm down. He lays his head on the floor.

_Chill out. There's no danger._

Just a bit more. He doesn't have to get there all along the way, just to the point where he reaches out and gets the bear. Come on.

 _Just a bit more_.

He manages to reach out, but by this time he's shaking in his whole body - how does it come the A.I hasn't alerted Jack yet? - but still he's grateful because that's a lot more movement in one go than he ever did in those last days and he didn’t even piss or crap himself. 

It takes a good amount of 5 mins til he takes hold of the bear and then comes the task of pulling it to himself. Another five mins. But finally, the bear is with him.

He closes his eyes. He's sweating in his whole body and his heart still races. 

But the bear is warm against him and it feels good to hold it.

 

"I can protect you."

"And you would. I have no doubt about that."

"You're not a burden to me, Bucky."

"The Winter Soldier will be."

"Bucky. Enough. Come with me. Let me... let SHIELD help you. I have friends, doctors... Let us help you."

His lover stands in the middle of an apartment, hunched, pouting, hurt, like an overgrown toddler and the sight is creepy and pitiful at once. Steve goes on:

"We need your help. Against the remains of HYDRA. You can help us a lot."

Bucky turns away from him. His voice is barely audiable.

"What has SHIELD done to Rollins and Rumlow?"

Steve blinks. "Nothing. As I told you, they're in custody but they're safe. In a pretty big apartment. We've made a deal. Rollins is giving up intel. They've already helped a lot."

"How does Rumlow fare?"

"Not too well. He's... disabled. He barely can move and can't speak at all. Doctors say, he never will again."

Bucky turns so fast that Steve almost jumps. His blue eyes are blazing. 

"He can't move and speak?!"

"And he's sortof incontinent", adds Steve. "I am not entitled to know this, but Fury told me."

"Fury, Fury...." His love ponders and draws his eyebrows together. 

"He's Director of SHIELD", says Steve and swallows before he'd continue, 'and you shot him through the wall, almost fatally.' But Bucky, thanks god, is back to Rumlow again. "How is he dealing with all of this? Is he... aware of himself?"

_Why do you care so much for him?_

"He is, yes. And from what Rollins told to me, he isn't exactly dealing well with it. But Rollins supports him. He'd do anything for Rumlow."

"Hydra Husbands."

"What?" Steve thinks he's misheard. Bucky repeats.

"Hydra Husbands. That's how the Team used to call them. Long before they got married."

"You care for them?"

Bucky hears the trap in the question and avoids it:

"You made sure that they'd be safe."

"So far."

Steve is not lying, doesn't want to. Chances that Rumlow and Rollins get to stay in the apartment, are pretty small. The intel Rollins is giving up is not enough to keep them safe. Romanoff dumped all the files on the net - what Rollins can tell to them,  is only a small percentage of important. The main prize is the Winter Soldier and if anyone brings him in, it will be Steve Rogers. Fury's gonna march to Captain America's fife and Steve knows exactly how he's gonna do it.

If only he could make Bucky see it.

Bucky lifts his head.

"If I go with you, can you... can you ensure that they get to stay safe?"

_Hallelujah._

"I will", says Steve firmly and sets his jaw.

Bucky smiles, the first real smile since they met again.

"You could do this all day."


	5. Doubt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is something out of place with that teddy. Brock wants sex. Jack is tired and worn out. Steve is trying his best to come out on top and Fury hates surprises.

The teddy bothers Brock more than anything else. That's not Jack, giving him such a thing as a gift and claiming it has therapeutic purposes. It's a cute little thing and it feels nice to hold it, it even helps, it really does. He's unable to speak but in his mind he carries on long conversations with the bear, telling to it about all of his fears, hopes, anger, sadness. Everything he feels, everything he wouldn’t share with Jack, not even if he'd still have his speaking abilities. Everything he has bottled up all through the years. He’s a tough guy, he'd been initiated into HYDRA by Jack and it was a twisted story. It has been long, long time ago that Brock Rumlow wanted to hide in a dark corner for safety and comfort. The teddy brings back exactly those times and Brock understand now what Jack meant; with the help of the bear he's channeling back to this old, scared self of him. It’s a nice feeling, actually, even if it sounds strange.

But god, there is something really off.

First of all, Jack checks regularly if Brock holds the bear close to him. Second, the fur of the thing is not what one would expect of a cuddly children's toy. Sure, it's silky and soft and whatnot, but somehow strange to the touch.  _Artificial,_ that's what comes as first in his mind and that's hilarious, of course it's artificial but....  different.

It doesn't help things that he has lot of time to think. 

With practically nothing to do, except the regular exercizes in order to improve his motoric skills, watching TV, reading, listening to music and cuddling up to Jack, he's getting bored quickly and boredom is the greatest enemy of the mind. He’s not new to this, there had been missions where they had to stay low and wait for days in a molehole and HYDRA and SHIELD both have prepared them well for such cases. Mental exercizes, meditations, it all had been there. They were trained to withstand torture, boredom, pain, shock, danger - every imaginable situations. Except this.

When Jack came back from the interview and found him on the floor with the teddy, Brock had been stunned. For two reasons: first, the A.I. didn’t alert his husband, so he spent 28 minutes on the floor. Second; Jack didn't ask a thing, didn't even raise his eyebrows. He just picked up Brock, placed him on the couch - with teddy -, and went on with the usual daily routine. 

For all he knows, the A.I. might have alerted Jack of what happened but as Brock wasn't injured, Jack didn't deem necessary to return. That's also a possibility. 

He's getting depressed. Jack works his ass off to keep them both safe and this means he's going to a lot of interviews -- flanked by guards, wrists and ankles cuffed -, and upon return, he doesn't talk about how meaningless and worthless those interviews are. Everything's on the internet, Jack can't offer anything new, merely confirm. That's not enough to keep them safe. For now, SHIELD is eager for anything Jack has to offer but soon this will be over and the two of them will land in prison.

Brock is getting desperate because he'd like to spend time with his husband before they get locked up and kept from each other. He wants Jack's kisses, he wants Jack's hand on his body, he wants Jack's cock in his mouth.

He wants to have sex with his husband.

The problem is; Jack doesn't handle him  _this way_ anymore. No wonder. Wiping shit from your partner's ass and putting them in diapers hardly flares the libido. He's disabled, partly incontinent and mute. He's not a sex-partner to Jack anymore, but a serious burden. Jack never will want to have him again.

 

Fury, Nicholas J., is not easy to surprise and he hates surprises, so he doesn't take too well that Steve might have found the Winter Soldier and isn't willing to turn him over. 

"That's not a wise move, Captain. He's a dangerous assassin and he has committed many murders."

"He was tortured. Brainwashed" Steve says and withstands Fury's look. 

"Don't give me that look, Rogers. I know what has happened to him, I did my readings. We're dealing with an assassin of HYDRA."

"We're dealing with a mentally tortured, brainwashed POW. A war veteran. Member of the Howling commandos, national hero who died while serving and protecting his country."

Fury stands up, his remaining one eye trying to drill a hole through Steve's skull. 

"Plus, I don't even know where he is ATM", finishes Steve, acting rather cheerfully.

"You just said..."

"I said I  _might_ know his whereabouts."

Smart, Fury thinks. Rogers isn't saying anything what might get him in trouble - well, not legally. And the coin's got two sides. Barnes is an assassin but if the whole thing - let's say it - gets infront of court, Rogers' arguments are exactly what the defense team would use. So he gives one last try:

"In case if you'd...  _find_ him, Captain, you should bring him in. A mentally tortured, brainwashed POW would need all the help SHIELD has to offer. We've got great doctors, psychologists. Barnes would be more safe in here than outside where HYDRA has been hunting him."

Steve knows that. Fury is right, Bucky would get all the help, but not this way. If he'd turn his lover in, Bucky would be locked up in a mental facility  in no time and Steve wouldn’t have any access to him. No way. They could use SHIELD's help, but first...

"What's up with the Hydra Husbands?", he asks.

"The who?" This question takes Fury totally by surprise, and it takes Steve a moment to realize what he just said. He corrects himself; "Rumlow and Rollins. How do they fare?"

"I don't really see why I should disclose any information about them." Fury is bitching now and that's a good sign - he's losing his calm. "As far as it concerns you, they're SHIELD's prisoners and that's all you need to know, Captain."

Steve stays silent.

Fury gives a small huff and leans forward. "Rollins keeps giving up intel, but nothing new. And Rumlow’s doing worse. We have surveillance on him, 24/7, we keep on evaluating his vitals. Blood-pressure, heartbeat, sleep cycle and so on."

Steve shakes his head. "We all are under surveillance, JARVIS keeps track of our vitals..."

"Rumlow's vitals aren't checked by JARVIS, we run another system on him."

Steve frowns.

"Why would you do that?" 

"Now  _this_ is truly classified information, Captain." 

 

When Jack returns that evening, he finds that Brock is giving him the cold shoulder. Teddy in lap, eyes fixed on the TV screen and he doesn’t acknowledge his husband's arrival.

"Babe..." Jack frowns. 

Brock pointedly turns his head away from him.

"Come on babe. What's wrong?"

Brock doesn't even turn.

Jack isn't fond of Brock behaving like a hurt schoolgirl, but he usually lets him get away with it for two reasons; He finds it endearing and thus he isn't willing to waste time and energy on that crap. Brock usually returns to his normal self when not given attention. But tonight Jack's on the edge, he's strung and he'd like to find some consolation, with a good bourbon and Brock in his arms. He'd never touch him  _that_ way ever again now that Brock is disabled, he'd never force himself on a handicapped person, but two and a half hours earlier he managed to disclose a list of names of sleeper HYDRA agents which SHIELD was not aware of and they went for it, they went on him, hard, scraping to the bottom of everything he had to say. Now he's just tired. He still has to feed Brock, take him to the bathroom, change him,  wash him, put him in pyjamas... that's an hour of ordeal. He wants to get over with it and then just fucking  _chill._ He tiredly sighs and rubs his face with the back of his hand.

"Okay, so... I'll just get you some food, then change you and put you to bed. I can crash on the couch."

His voice is so worn out, so alarming that Brock gasps. He looks up at his husband and gets shocked. Jack seems at least a decade older. Whatever they've done to him, it sucked the energy out of him. He's a walking shell. 

Sober sense gives a good kick to Brock’s conscience and suddenly he gets ashamed. Jack has done everything to him, kept him safe, cares for him... 

_He needs me._

He lets out a small whimper as he beggingly looks at Jack. Jack steps closer, hesitantly. It would be good to know what the fuck is going on. If he wasn't so tired, he'd try to decrypt. But he has no strength, so he just sits on the couch, hugging Brock’s waist and letting his head fall on his husband's shoulder and Brock snuggles into him. Jack's smell, his closeness and the abandonment he had to deal with in the last few hours, catch up with him and his body reacts in a vehement, although not unusual and not really uncomfortable way.

Jack opens his eyes because Brock is whimpering again. He's about to check what's wrong and this is when he sees Brock’s tent. Suddenly everything clicks into place.

_He's sexually frustrated._

Thanks God. This is easy to solve.

"You okay with me touching you, babe?", he asks.

Brock closes his eyes.  _Yes._

Jack stands up, strips Brock naked, and lays him on the couch. Brock writhes beautifully, cock rock hard, weeping, his eyes begging. Jack licks a stripe up his palm, and begins to slowly jack him off while kissing him.

It doesn't even last for a minute for Brock to orgasm. His cum covers his stomach and he's shivering and gasping.

"Poor babe... so pent up..."

Jack is about to stand up but Brock begins to lick his lips pointedly. Jack frowns. He tries to give a kiss, but Brock shakes his head. No.

"What do you want?", asks Jack, then follows Brock’s gaze - at his own crotch.

"You wanna give me a blowjob?"

_Yes._

"You sure, babe?!"

_Yes._

Jack hesitates. He'd never ask Brock to do that, not in this state, but seemingly, his husband wants this. And it would feel so good. 

He stands up, and gently reaches under Brock, sitting him up a half-sitting position, propping him up with pillows. "If you want this, I'll give it to you, but let's make you comfortable for it." 

Then he opens his trousers, takes out his cock and kneels infront of his partner. He's shaking, they haven't done this in ages, but Brock opens his mouth beautifully and Jack puts it in his mouth.

He almost comes from the sensation and it takes a great deal not to empty himself right then and there into that warm, inviting, sexy mouth. He takes a deep breath, shaking in his whole body, and cold sweat breaks out on him. He can't let go just like that.

It's easier said than done, because in the next moment Brock swirls his tongue around his thick, pulsating member and all it takes are two pushes from Jack's hips to have a frenetic orgasm. He pulls back in time, in order not to come in Brock’s mouth, so his cum splatters on his husband's face and chest. Brock rolls out his tongue, catching the tip, asking for it, sucking it back into his mouth and closing his eyes, he's sucking on it like candy.

Jack's chest is heaving as he looks down at his partner. Brock is covered in cum, his own and Jack's and he looks contented and happy. He looks up at Jack and smiles. Jack shakes his head, amused.

"Ok, babe. Let's get us into the tub."

 

"So what is it exactly you want, Captain?" Fury never would admit it but he's getting tired. Rogers is a good guy, convinceable, but right now he's hard, cold as a stone and determined. 

"For now, I need assurance that Rollins and Rumlow would be safe."

"And then?"

"We'll talk about it later."

"Would you please be so nice as to tell me why those HYDRA fuckers are so important to you?!" Fury's close to fuming. Steve doesn't care.

"We will need them. I am being serious, Fury. You drop them in a dark hole, SHIELD never will hear of the Winter Soldier again. Or of Captain America", he adds quietly.

Fury thinks he's misheard it.

"You say, you would..."

"Resign."

And he's so determined, so silent and strong as he's standing there that Fury gives up.

"Let it be then. Your Husbands get to stay where they are."

"We're not married."

"Don't give me that sass, Rogers, I am an old man. Your HYDRA fuckers stay in the apartment, a way too good place for them if you ask me, but seemingly you don’t give a shit about what the Director of SHIELD thinks. Dismissed. Anything else to say?"

"I don't like bullies", says Steve softly. "I don't care where they're from."

He turns and walks out. Fury stays and gapes after him like a single-eyed big fish.


	6. Unfolding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teddies and soldiers.

"Captain Rogers went today to the Smithonians, visited an old veteran friend, has had coffee with Agent Romanoff, visited Agent Rollins and Agent Rumlow, otherwise he was staying at home and presumably working on some paintings. He's made a few calls... to Agent Romanoff and Agent Hill... he was called by a bookshop.... all in all, that's it, sir."

Fury stands infront of the huge glass window of his office, his back turned towards the agent reporting, his hands folded behind his back. 

"So, no sign of him meeting anyone, calling anyone who's not SHIELD-approved."

"Exactly, sir."

"Dismissed, Agent."

The door falls silently into place.

 

Brock is trying his best to exercise his limbs. Strange thing, it always works a lot better if he cuddles the damn teddy before. His skin feels warmer, his muscles feel warmer. And he feels a bit more... hyped up. And horny.

The fuck is up with that bear? 

Brock is not a sentimental. Out of the two of them, he's the drama queen. Jack's like a stone: silent, strong, unmovable. Brock is the impulsive one, losing his temper quickly, loudly. He's all of this, but he's not sentimental, and neither is Jack. In short, the teddy is eerily off. Is the thing releasing some substance?

But why? Why wouldn't they just give it to him straightaway?

And does Jack know about it?

"Babe, I can hear you thinking from here."

Jack kneels next to him on the couch and Brock doesn't waste the chance of rubbing his face against his husband's crotch. The cloth-covered dick twitches and Brock smirks. Turning his head, he begins to nibble slightly on it, through jeans, through underwear,

"Hey, you", Jack gently pushed him away but he's smiling. "Wasn't this morning enough?"

No, it's never enough. 

God, he loves Jack. He loves his strength, his calmness, his deep dark wood smell, his smile, the green of his eyes, his muscled arms with which he flips over Brock in bed so easily, his tight ass, long legs, not to mention other, interesting features. He's so much in love with his husband that it almost hurts.

Speaking of which. Back to that damned teddy and let's shed some light on the whole crap.

He tilts his head towards the bear and asks Jack with his eyebrows. Jack doesn't understand.

"You want the teddy?"

Brock turns his head on the side. No. Enough.

Jack stands there, pondering. Damn Stark and damn SHIELD, they're residing in some fucking modern effin tower with all knickknacks yet they are not willing to give Brock something to be able to communicate with so he could just damn spell out on some screen what he wants. He has to learn to read thoughts apparently. They have no paper or pen in the whole apartment. He cannot even draw up an ABC for Brock to tap on it. And the A.I. doesn't serve them beyond of necessary.

All he has, are Brock's medical papers. That be it, then.

He takes them and places them infront of Brock. His husband raises a shaky finger and though the first tries pretty much suck, but after a while it is becomes clear.

'WHAT IS IN THE BEAR'

 

Fury is not happy, Steve thinks. He is not happy and he is angry. And upset. Seemingly the agent sent to spy on Steve, didn't deliver him any good news. More to that, must had been bad news.

Steve smirks. He doesn't smirk often but these days he has every reason to do so.

"Sir, you wanted to see me."

"Yes, I did." Fury stands up and looks from down up to Steve, like a vulture. "I want to know something."

"What would it be, sir?"

"I want to know which games you are playing, Captain."

"I am not the one playing the games, sir. You seem to be in a rather playful mood. Bugging my apartment, sending spies after me, checking my phone calls...  _and I won't tolerate any of this."_

"It seems to me you are not clear with how serious the situation is, Captain. You are hiding a dangerous terrorist...."

"Am I?"

"I am warning you, Captain Rogers, if you..."

"You warn me, sir?"

The question is silent, Steve doesn't even raise his voice, but Fury stops. Steve oozes threat and danger from all of his pores and Fury knows he's overstepped.

"All I wanted to say, was that if you don't work together with SHIELD, there will be consequences."

"In that case, sir, I am happy to report that I work 100% with SHIELD together, thus you have no reasons to worry about me. Now, if you indulge me, I have a few tasks to do."

"Damn you, Rogers, I will find out where Barnes is!"

Steve looks down at the desk, then raises his head and his voice is calm, more than ever.

"I wish you good luck with it, sir."

And he manages to close the door behind him silently.

 

Fuck.

Jack isn't prepared for this. He should have known, though. Brock is not an idiot, it was clear he would figure things out.

"I cannot tell you. I am not allowed."

Brock's face falls. 

Jack hesitates. Well, he can feed some pieces and bits of the truth to Brock. He sits down next to Brock and pulls him in his lap.

"The bear has therapeutic purposes... and it measures your blood-pressure and heart-rate when I am not here with you. It also releases stuff like vitamines and electrolyts which are important to you and the effect lasts hour longer this way than orally. Ask no more. Please."

Brock rests his head on his husband's shoulder. It is such a good feeling to breathe him deep in. To be safe. To be held like this.

He's...  _happy._

Stupid thing because he's crippled and they are prisoners. But he's happy. 

Even with that fucking teddy.

 

Steve goes to the bookshop and this time, he's not followed.

 

The lovemaking is calm and beautiful and Steve tops. He takes his time, flexes himself, invades Bucky in a slow, delicious way which makes both of them moan from pleasure.

When coming off of their highs, he takes Bucky in his arms. His lover's eyes are half-closed, long lashes caressing his face, his full, red lips parted, glistening. He oozes peace and serenity as he snuggles up against Steve's broad chest, making himself small, and giving out small, contented whimpers. Steve looks down at him and his heart bursts with happiness.

His Bucky is here, with him. 

When he went down into the ice, he felt pain, freezing slowly to semi-death. His enhanced body and metabolism always made him give off heat like a furnace. Freezing lasted twice as long and was twice as painful, but then there was the consolation to the physical pain; that soon it will be all over. Soon he wouldn't feel anything. Neither physically, nor emotionally.

After he was unthawed - and _God_ , did he feel the whole thing, it was a torture which lasted for hours as the circulation in his limbs returned, he was in such a pain, he could have screamed. If his frozen vocal chords had cooperated. But the physical pain was nothing, compared to the heartache he had to feel again.

He kisses that beautiful, pillowy mouth and caresses Bucky's flanks, shoulders and back. He can't get enough of him. 

Bucky opens his eyes, smiles up at him.

"So, the next step?..."

Steve rests his chin on the top of Bucky's head.

"I have a few friends who are going to help. I bet Fury's gonna resign at the end. But in order to do this... Bucky, you will need to undergo several medical examinations."

He feels how his lover tenses in his arms.

"Buck. That's the only way to do."

"I know", comes the muffled answer. "Doesn't mean I have to like it."

"I will be there with you, Bucky. Til the end of the line."

 

"The danger is lessening", the doctor tells to Jack. "The amount of the nitroglycerin seems to be enough to stabilize the patient's condition, so we can reduce the amount in the near future. I must warn you though, the fact there's no imminent danger anymore, doesn't mean that everything's alright."

Jack nods. This is clear to him as well. At any rate, these are good news, and perhaps, after so much suffering, there will be some light at the end of the tunnel.

"Thank you, doctor."

"You're welcome, Agent Rollins."


	7. Revelations

Tony Stark is a good man, and has lots of money. Money which can get the best doctors and the best lawyers. Plus, he has friends like Dr. Banner and employees like Maria Hill.

That, in all, should be enough.

And if a black van stops by an old bookstore at an early dawn - well, there's nothing special or outstanding in that.

 

Bucky suffers. Steve sees it clearly. They are in a sickroom, Bucky dressed in comfortable sweats, and his room is really nice. The glasses and walls are not giving away anything about being reinforced. Steve hugs Bucky and doesn't let go for a long time.

His lover's eyes are red-rimmed. Bucky had been through a lot these days, talking to psychiatrists and lawyers. They've been pushing him hard, but its for his own good and he gets just enough rest in order not to break down. The biggest hurdles they've already managed. Maria says there's no court of justice who'd throw him in prison. 

But Bucky is tired and all of it has been taking its toll on him. 

Steve has been "kindly invited to spend some time" by Tony in the Tower. Not even Fury can say a word against this, so the lovers can be together all the way they want to. So, after eating a delicious dinner, they have climbed into bed and are now snuggled up against each other. 

"Why do you care so much for Rumlow and Rollins?", he asks, when Bucky's breathing seems to even out and the spooked expression vanishes from his eyes. "You have been talking to the lawyers about them." 

Bucky's answer is so muffled, so low, he barely can hear it.

"They wanted to help me."

"Really?" Now that's unexpected. 

Bucky lifts his head from Steve's chest.

"It's not like they suddenly reverted from HYDRA to merciful nuns", he says with a small laugh. "What you have to understand, is that they were true soldiers and believers to HYDRA. They believed in the new world order what only HYDRA could bring. Their hands are dripping with blood just like mine are...."

"Bucky..."

"That's the truth, Stevie and you know it."

Bucky sits up and looks on his folded hands lying in his lap. Steve is silent, doesn't dare to disturb him.

"They have kept them blind. They told them,  _look, this is what's happening in the world now. This is what we gotta stop. That's why you need us._ And for a good while - they believed. A herd of sheep blindly following the pastor. But then the day came when they began to  _question..."_

 

 _'It didn't take much,_ Jack thinks. Rumlow finding the remnants of a computer in the debris, something what once was USB-connected interface... meddling with it, in hopes to gain informations.

And boy, did he. He gained more than he wanted. What they both ever have wanted...

Team Alpha has had their shares of massacre, they killed on command, on sight, anyone who was chosen to be eliminated and they never questioned. Did they had to kill children? On many occassions. Either shoot the little shit, or the whole Team gets to blown to pieces. Cut the throat of another? It was late night and they had to be silent, moving forward, finishing off the guards. Didn't matter if said guard was 14 or 24 years old.  _Either they die or we do._

There was no time for failure. No chance. 

A whole school gets bombed, people die in hospital. Poisonous gas. The doctors are shot. The babies - the newborns -, die of hunger a few days later. And it's not some dictator's or madman's doing. It is HYDRA.

Villages massacred. Somewhere in Africa. People who got lighter skin, were murdered in a cruel way.

Women and children being stoned to death for being raped. 

But hey... A new world would come, all suffering would come to an end - that there would be no more casket for children. A new, free world would come in which all war ends. HYDRA can make it.

They believed that.

 

They both felt sick to the core by the time they finished reading the files. But if that's what it takes for the new world to come, then that's what it takes. Let it be. It will all be over once HYDRA rules.  _Order only through pain._

And then the bank accounts...

Secret accounts in Switzerland. Enormous amounts of money. Different passports for different names, but always the same 3-4 persons. Holiday resorts, yachts... unimaginable wealth in paradise.

_"In order to gain, we all have to sacrifice", says Pierce. "We have to deny ourselves pleasures we'd gladly allow otherwise."_

The leaders of HYDRA have lied to them. Financially, spiritually, in every meaning someone can lie to another person. And they have found it out and have begun to plot.

First step was their marriage. For tax benefits, for plus rights, everything which can be ensured via marriage. Like, inheriting after the dead one.

Then came the Asset. His role was crucial in Project Insight. Lots turned on him. And if they could have ensured that somehow he'd take their side, he alone would be able to sabotate the whole project. It only depended on confusing him, trying to ewoke his memories, mostly the ones connected to Rogers. They fed him pieces and bits of informations of his past and it seems to have worked. The Asset didn't kill Rogers. The Asset asked after the man on the bridge. On the big day they would have worked together, the Asset under Rumlow's command, easy way.

How Pierce found out, will remain a mystery forever.

Just before the big showdown, they both got captured, beaten up  _by their own teammates,_ dragged infront of Pierce.

 

_"You've been plotting behind my back", says Pierce. "You betrayed HYDRA and this has some serious consequences for you. Commander Rumlow, I have trusted you for many years."_

_"I can say the same about you", Brock says, his voice low with contempt._

_Pierce watches him for a while, then gestures to the chair. "Put him in."_

_"NOOOOOO!" Jack launches forward but is held back and he tries to fight off his captors who force him to kneel on the ground, and he can't do anything but watch helpless how the man he loves, is being strapped in the chair. Then the horrendous headpiece of the engine comes alive and Brock's amber eyes look at him for a last time, filled with fear and love. And goodbye._

_The electric shock scourging through Brock's body, should be enough to kill him and Jack hopes for a quick death for his lover, he prays for it, but he can't stop the animalistic scream breaking out of him, upon seeing Brock's body convulsing. He somehow manages to fight off his captors and the second he's free, he jumps toward the Chair, in some desperate, false hope to stop it, to get Brock out of it alive..._

_The shocking batons don't really come as a surprise. The pain on his head, on his left eye, is unwelcome and so are the kicks between his ribs. He howls, he screams, he cries and his only thought is Brock, Brock, Brock..._

_"Shall we shoot them, Sir?"_

_"That would make too much mess now and we need this room later. Lock them up, it's not like they'll escape."_

_And they are being dragged on the floor. Thrown mercilessly in a cell, heavy lock securing them. With his right eye - the left is being blinded from the blood flowing from his forehead -, he sees Brock's unmoving body next to him. He climbs to his husband, desperate in his search for breath, for heartbeat, for anything which would give him back the meaning of life - and he finds it._

_Brock is still alive._

_Jack breaks out in a sob and carefully - he hurts everywhere like hell - wraps his bigger body around the smaller one, to keep themselves warm.  At least they get to die together, curled around each other til death comes for them._

_Or some goddamn miracle._

 

"Jesus", Steve buries his face into his palms. "I've had the suspicions that Rumlow was thrown into the Chair, but Rollins doesn't speak a thing whenever we ask him. Pierce truly was a sick, pervert fuck. And you've seen it all?"

"No. By this time I was already in a Quinjet, waiting for the team to load in and start the day. They talked among each other on the way to the Triskelion. Few words, but enough for me."

"And then you remembered."

"In-between missions, Rumlow would show me photos about you from before the war and told me my name. He told me, I shall help the world, I shall help  _Stevie._ And it worked."

"You remembered me."

"When you told me those words, 'til the end of the line, I didn't see you anymore. You know what I saw? A tiny, scrawny, little blonde guy from Brooklyn." Bucky smiles. "I don't know if I would have remembered you without Rumlow's photos, without all the things he said to me. The breakthrough for sure were your words. But what he has planted in me the weeks prior, have helped to take down the walls. And it almost cost them their lives."

Steve sighs. At least now some things finally have gained sense.

He gathers Bucky to him. Now all he needs, is Bucky's warmth and some peace of mind.

Then he can continue with his plan


End file.
